


All is Summer There

by theskywasblue



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Gen, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is looking for something</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is Summer There

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday [](http://dr-zook.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**dr_zook**](http://dr-zook.dreamwidth.org/)! I hope it's a good one. I'm sure this wasn't exactly what you were expecting, but I can't be blamed for my brain, it has a life (and a will) of its own.

The house was uncomfortably summer-hot, so sticky, even the walls seemed to sweat. Ghost felt listless, stretched out on the couch, heavy and melted down, cooked through like an egg on a hot engine block.

Steve was different. The heat turned him into a gathering storm, wandering anxious and angry through the over-warm house, looking for a hundred things and finding nothing. There was nothing that drove Steve crazier than weather, than something beyond his control; he would rail against it until he broke up against it, like a ship against the rocks. Ghost just endured it; he was good at that – the calm to Steve's whirlwind.

"I can't find it," Steve muttered, stalking through the living room for the fifth time, or maybe the fiftieth. Time was as thick as the heat, as thick as Ghost's mind, which felt wrapped in cotton, smothered in honey. He didn't even know what Steve was looking for anymore. “I swear this place is fucking haunted.”

Ghost happened to know that is was; but he also knew that his grandmother wasn’t interested in Steve’s threadbare socks, his guitar picks or his favourite T-shirt. She was only there because it was her home and she loved them – and death was never simple, even to the people who died.

“It’s always in the last place you look,” Ghost offered finally, tipping one shoulder in a shrug; the other was stuck to the upholstery, tacky with sweat.

Steve raked his hand through his hair, face frustrated at first, then angry. “That’s bullshit, Ghost. Seriously. Of course it is, of course. Because you stop looking, right?”

“Something like that.”

He watched Steve struggle with himself, trying to decide if it was worth letting his temper boil over, trying to decide if Ghost was fucking with him – whether it was worth being pissed off with him if he was; and then he sort of melted with the heat, shoulders slumping, head tipping forward, scrubbing a hand across his face. He dropped onto the couch, swinging his legs up, kicking at Ghost’s shins, though not with any kind of malice.

“Serious bullshit, Ghost.”

Ghost shrugged again, and smiled at him. They sat face to face, each pressed against an arm of the couch, their legs warring passively for space on the cushions.

“It’s fucking hot,” Steve said finally, miserable, slouching down until his legs were caging Ghost in, the hot denim of Steve’s cuffs rubbing Ghost’s shoulders. Ghost put a hand on Steve’s knee, pressed the heel of his hand right under his kneecap so that his toes curled. Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back until it was hanging off the arm of the couch, almost entirely upside down; Ghost let his eyes fall shut too, choked back a yawn.

“Shit,” Steve said suddenly, almost laughing. He was still more or less upside down, one arm hanging limply with his knuckles brushing the floor. “It’s right over there by the goddamn door. Why do you always have to be right about fucking _everything_? It pisses me off.”

And because the heat and the sweaty closeness of Steve, smelling of hot earth and unwashed skin made him feel reckless, Ghost said, “Well then I guess you should have looked there _first_.”

-End-


End file.
